


Call Off Your Ghost

by Suzelle



Series: Onen i-Estel Edain [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1425838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzelle/pseuds/Suzelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilraen approaches the one-year anniversary of her husband's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Off Your Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a character/word drabble meme on Tumblr, with the prompt "Gilraen, warm." With thanks to [Sigridhr](archiveofourown.org/users/sigridhr) for the prompt!

Gilraen dreaded the return of summer’s heat. It brought back memories she had worked so hard to forget, and anniversaries she did not care to confront. She stopped marking dates on the calendar, went quiet when Elrond talked of midsummer celebrations, and hoped she could pass by the day of Arathorn’s death without reliving it. 

She had nearly fainted on the day of his funeral, the black wool of her mourning dress suffocating her in the heat, oppressive in its grief. She had stayed upright only through sheer stubbornness, unwilling to be broken before her people, and stumbled through the rites in a haze of dizziness and faint nausea. But she collapsed onto the floor as soon as she entered the Chieftain’s house, and her mother had to tend to her until she felt well enough to partake in the debates that would decide her future and that of her son’s.

Decisions that had brought her to where she was today. 

"Do you think you could call this home, one day?" Merineth asked her one night. The air was filled with the sweet smell of nectar, and the quiet only broken by crickets and the faint tunings of a harp in the corner of the courtyard. The peace of life in Imladris was still not something Gilraen could get fully used to, and the languid warmth of summer only served to increase Rivendell’s serenity. Her son ran across the lawn, laughing as he tried to catch a firefly, and she marveled once more at the safety she felt, safety her former life had never afforded her. 

Summer here would not be the same as summer in the Angle. She prayed that would be enough to help her see it through. 


End file.
